


Revelations In The Light of Day

by ShadowsAbound



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-08-07 13:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7716172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsAbound/pseuds/ShadowsAbound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a delicate balance. Chad watches, waits and offers a quiet shoulder for his lover who is slowly falling off into a realm of unhinged thoughts, power and sense of selfishness. Ichigo wavers and sways to the beat of his own mind as he tries to come to terms with the fact people watch his every move and Zangetsu is restless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. 
> 
> This is a small collection of snippets from a "What If" scenario of thoughts and my sister wanting to see more Chad and Ichigo stories. I have no doubt this story is full of errors both big and small, but I wrote this to pass the time. Though feel free to tell me how to fix them. I don't know when I will get to posting more but if I do it will be another set of five snippets. Enjoy.

One.  
“I want to leave,” Ichigo states with a wistful, sharp bite on Chad’s wrist. Chad hums, barely feeling the pressure of his companion’s teeth against his flesh and keeps his eyes on the riverbank. He is used to this habit, sharp teeth finding his pulse and resting over it for several long moments—a comfort Ichigo tried to tell him once. He says nothing and finds himself waiting for the bites. Chad learns they come, most often, when Ichigo is mulling over thousands of what-ifs and his desire to drop his slowly crumbling façade. Chad starts to enjoy the habit after he puts all the pieces together and eagerly, though hidden, waits for the moment it all comes crashing down on the town. 

“When?” He rumbles. 

Ichigo retracts his teeth, gives him a long look through shaggy orange bangs, as he runs his calloused fingers over the soft indents, drawing a shiver from Chad’s muscles, which alights a wicked smirk proudly proclaiming Ichigo got his desired effect. As he trails his fingers a second time, he responds with the same quiet and distracted tone, “Don’t know. Just know it will be soon.” 

“Where?” he asks. 

Ichigo laughs, “Many places. Far too many to name, but away from here. I’m tired of behaving.”

Chad shifts closer pressing his body along a lithe but deadly frame in agreement. Ichigo smiles, pushes him back into the grass, and hovers over him with bright, nearly unhinged eyes and curls himself on Chad’s broad chest. 

Absently, he runs his fingers through Ichigo’s hair. It’s full of tangles and wafts a bittersweet scent—one that reminds Chad of petrichor. The scent is calming and he finds himself drifting. 

Two.  
Chad fools himself into thinking that Ichigo is all right, even after all that has happened, his bittersweet victory and his grave price. It is an easy task when all he can do is wait, stare at the relaxed, resting face of his closest friend. He hopes the sleep is restful, but Ichigo’s fingers twitch in frequent intervals. He knows that no one else has noticed and the thought sends a burn of anger through his stomach. For the first time, since Mexico, Chad wants to hurt, to destroy, because he knows he can and it will make him feel better. 

He refrains and remains by Ichigo’s side. 

When Ichigo wakes the damage, though well hidden, makes Chad want to hide Ichigo from the rest of the world. It shows in the constant twitch of slender fingers, repetitious drumming and the subconscious reach for Zangetsu. A gleam settles in Ichigo’s amber eyes that Chad worries about on the days they have no contact, but he strengthens his resolve and stands behind that promise made on the riverbank all those years ago. Ichigo remains by his side and doesn’t make mention of anything different.

After everything, they attempt to fall back into their old ways, but things are difficult. All of them are suffering from a form of PTSD though some are better at hiding it than others. Ishida’s stress makes him prone to furious out-bursts like he can’t hold his tongue. It reminds Chad of Ichigo before the Winter War. Orihime is far less bubbly, quieter, and there are times when terror twists her features when she daydreams. Chad finds himself possessive, especially over those he sees as his and at the top of his list is Ichigo. 

Strangely, Ichigo is the best at hiding, Chad thinks of all the years is friend hid behind his façade. His changes are just another thing for him to shove behind the mask—Chad wonders if it in Ichigo’s mindscape it reflects the hollow mask that once covered his face. Or rather, does the other actually think of anything that reminds him of Zangetsu or his hollow. In the end, Chad dismisses the thought when he catches Ichigo’s unfocused eyes refocus into a warp of stinging amber, pain and defeat. He thinks of them all too much, but Chad can’t blame him. 

 

Three: 

Ichigo tugs him into his tiny orbit with only the twins, but before Chad can blink, he finds only himself. The knowledge causes him to question but he never asks. 

A strange burn tickles at the back of his throat when Ichigo comes knocking on his door late one night, his body battered and bruised. Eyes rimmed red, nose clogged, and raw, bitten lips. Fine trails of darkened blood stained his chin and crusted in crude scabs. 

Chad steps back and lets him in without a sound. He directs him to the small, threadbare armchair, and moves to gather some clean clothes and his first aid kit. Ichigo grabs at his hand—his fingers are cold, bony and have a death grip on his wrist. Ichigo tugs and Chad moves to the other’s demands. He finds himself on the floor in front of the chair, back facing the other, but a weight settles around his shoulders as strong, deceptively thin arms wrap around him. It’s a mockery of a comfort—Ichigo buries his face in his the crook that lets his humid breath tickle Chad’s throat all the same. 

The subtle tremors radiate through Chad as he lets his oldest companion use him as a large stuffed toy. It takes ten minutes before Ichigo decides it isn’t enough contact and slips down into Chad’s lap. All long limbed and gangly and more than bony. Ichigo’s face rests on his collarbone, legs wrap around his waist, but his arms remain tucked close to his chest. Chad encircles the vibrant man in an embrace. He doesn’t move for the rest of the night. 

He wakes up with a sore, stiff body and a roommate still curled up in his arms. When Ichigo wakes, they steel themselves and go gather his things from his house when everyone has gone for the day. In the end, what Ichigo grabs is not much only clothes that have begun to hang off his thinning frame, a few well-loved books, a single picture of his mother and strange trinket that Chad has never seen before, which had been tucked away in his desk drawer. Ichigo turns to him, a bitter smile on his face, “Mom’s.” Chad doesn’t question, nor does he want a closer look. Ichigo stores it in his small duffel bag, and nods. 

It takes two weeks before there is a knock at their door. It’s persistent and makes the wood creak. Ichigo’s scowl deepens “Don’t let him in.” 

Chad never had any intentions, and Ichigo goes back to his book, pages turning slowly, as he goes back to ignoring the sound. Chads wonders how Ichigo knew who it was. As if sensing his question, Ichigo mutters, “They never fully went away…just quiet. Recovering. Especially, Zangetsu...woke up the day I came to you.” 

Chad nods.

“Zangetsu was particularly violent when he came to, far more hollow than normal, Isshin believes he needs to be permanently sealed so he doesn’t go out of control. That’s why I looked the way I did when I came to you—I knew you wouldn’t care. Moreover, you don’t care about the hollow-like tendencies I exhibit—course that is what Isshin hates about Zangetsu.” 

Chad’s brows furrow, “Hasn’t Zangestu always?” 

“Yep.” Ichigo responds with a slight pop to his lips, as he picks up his bookmark and places it in his book. He slants his eyes toward Chad, the light turns them gold and Chad thinks of Zangetsu’s influences. Ichigo curls his lips into a mockery of a smile, one full of daggers and wicked dreams. On his hands and knees, Ichigo slowly crawls toward him with the grace of predator, a tiger or a leopard. When he stops, Ichigo lips are a breath from his own, and already Chad can taste a bitter tang of mint and saliva. Then, Ichigo settles. A warm, heavy weight that makes his nerves fire rapidly, and makes instinct consume his every thought. Long orange hair flutters along his face and he inhales. A soft, wet tongue flickers across his lips. Chad stares down at Ichigo’s now glistening lips. 

Those golden eyes flash—Chad can’t repress the shiver that radiates from primal need. Chad brings his hands up to Ichigo’s back and digs deep into taunt muscles and drags. A hitch of breath, a slow, undulating of hips, and a long groan—Ichigo unravels. 

Teeth and claws. Instinct and pleasure. 

Chad follows without question. 

Four:  
Chad wakes in his bed to a dim glimmer of sun peeking through his curtains, and the stagnant heat of an enclosed room. Beside him, Ichigo clings to his frame still sleeping. Chad finds it to be a peaceful and comforting sight. He doesn’t move and waits for Ichigo to join him in the realms of reality. Ichigo wakes several minutes later, and Chad is more than relieved to see warm, sleep-filled brown eyes. Chad threads his fingers through Ichigo’s hair eliciting a quiet purr from the other. It seems to be one of Ichigo’s good days. 

Or so he thinks, but as Ichigo stirs and becomes more alert. The sleepy brown slowly lightens to a bright, unnatural amber, far more gold than brown. And Chad resigns—he is not upset, nor disappointed at least not with Ichigo. The Soul Society—completely. Ichigo’s family—somewhat. Urahara—more than he cares to admit. 

Chad keeps his thoughts to himself or attempts, but he has found since his world has come to revolve solely around Ichigo that it is a far much harder task than it used to be. Ichigo loves to poke and prod and entice the answers he knows lie in the back of his lover’s mind and what circles his thoughts when he thinks no one is looking. No, Chad can’t keep anything from Ichigo—not when Ichigo demands to know all that makes his friend tick. But Chad doesn’t mind, because he finds himself spilling the answers willingly to get them off his chest and see the soft, and rare smile that flutters across Ichigo’s face when he does. 

Five:  
A prickle in the air flutters about his senses like a warning a month and half after his lover moves in. It’s soft barely there—but it sends his body on a coiled shift of alert. And he finds himself double checking corners, constantly looking over his shoulders, and growing ever more possessive of Ichigo determined not to let him stray far from his sights. But it doesn’t take long for him to resign his watchdog duties when Ichigo isn’t apt for a cage—even if it is to keep him safe. So Chad lets him drift out of the apartment on his whims and tries to be content with merely sensing his muted energy on those days. Sometimes he thinks Ichigo does it to test his patience, but then he thinks “no” Ichigo is either bored or in one of his more solitary moods. Either way, Chad tries to remain patient and wait. 

It’s a quiet night in the height of a sweltering summer. The apartment remains stifling that Chad finds more relief standing outside on the small balcony, absently he is searching for Ichigo’s energy amidst the buzzing of several others. It’s subtle, quiet and moving slowly toward him with a lazy, lolling stretch. Chad extends his own only to stop when he feels others trailing behind Ichigo—there’s three of them. 

He feels Ichigo pause for the briefest of moments before he starts up his lazy gait back toward the apartment like he hasn’t the faintest care in the world. Chad feels his chest tighten as he closes his eyes to keep a better watch on his lover, and the signatures tailing him. He knows that he shouldn’t worry because Ichigo can more than take care of himself, more so now than before believing that his lover is far more aware of the manipulations of the world around him. Not that he didn’t doubt that Ichigo even knew in the beginning as well, and had decided to let his heart and good intentions lead him.

Chad knew that when he stepped down this road with Ichigo, and thus he finds him himself both loving and hating at core aspect of his lover.

With careful watching, Chad listens to Karakura’s quiet vibrancy as he waits for Ichigo, who appears several moments later on the rail of the balcony. He is all long and graceful . . .balancing perfectly along the thin piece of rusted metal. Chad peers up at him from his position—a mild question in his eyes as he watches Ichigo move back and forth along the railing.

A whimsical sight, a bit twisted, as Ichigo tosses his arms out, carelessly limp. A parody of balance. 

Ichigo—balance and chaos. All wrapped up in one. 

Chad sighs softly when Ichigo settles beside him close to wrapping his arms around his shoulders and threading his fingers in his air. Ichigo inhales heavily and lets his breathing match Chad’s. The subtle feeling of their chests rising and falling in sync gives them both the greatest comfort. 

They drift into a half-daze fully aware of those hovering nearby with numerous flickers of their spirit. 

“They’ve taken to following you now.” Chad mutters as he brings his hand up to drag his nails around the small flash of skin between Ichigo’s jeans and shirt. Ichigo’s breath hitches in a breathy whisper and lowers his head to an exposed patch of skin along Chad’s neck. He mouths it, gives it soft licks, opened kisses, before settling his teeth into the flesh. The soft pressure that has Chad shivering. 

Ichigo raises his head, “So they have. I expected Isshin and Kisuke, but it looks like they have dragged the Vizards in on it too. Hurts a bit.” He sighs and goes back to worrying his teeth in Chad’s flesh, then stops, “Suppose a saving grace is that there haven’t been any Shinigami, yet.” 

Chad tightens his hold, “Don’t let go.” He picks Ichigo up from the railing and feels him wrap his long legs around him. Ichigo buries his teeth onto Chad as he is taken back into their little world.


	2. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I lied. I had hoped to have another set of five little drabble snippets to post, but it seems that this, among other things, have gotten away from me. I have been sitting on this last little snippet for a while now debating on whether or not--to post it. I made my mind up. . . so here it is. I don't know when I will post more. Sorry for the wait on such a short piece. I hope that you enjoy. . . even if it is just a few short lines of ambiguous, surreal sex. (I think.) I don't even know anymore. Regardless, If it not your thing feel free to skip it. 
> 
> Ciao.

Six:   
It starts with subtle touches with feather-like brushes against exposed skin, chaste, far too innocent kisses, and lingering hugs that are all warmth and comfort. Always a precursor—then comes the sharp stings of teeth, and harsh sucks of lips and skin, and nails like claws. 

Ichigo’s breath hitches in a wanton moan, greedy and loud, as Chad nips with precision along his prominent collarbones. Sinking teeth into tanned, scar laden flesh only to slowly soothe with long strokes from his tongue, over and over. Blood wells and barely breaks the surface on sudden bites from exhaled gasps, the littlest of pin-pricks heavy with the pungent taste of metal and life. Chad chest vibrates with rich, rumbling growls that has Ichigo shivering in response with quieter purrs that stoke a flickering, growing flame that lingers between them. Parting with for lack of breath, noses brushing along flushed cheeks and lips still tasting in feather brushes. Ichigo licks his lower lip, bright red and glistening with saliva. Chad connects them once more far softer than before and lets their lips rest against one another—a soft, reassuring press. 

Wandering hands trail achingly slow along exposed flesh, teasing, waiting . . . a sharp, precise flash of pain settles along Chad’s shoulder blades ripping a long hiss and hitch of breath. Chad’s gaze flickers down at Ichigo to see a wide, near maddening smirk stretched across his face. It’s near encompassing and make his eyes shine with delighted, wicked mirth. It begs and taunts for retaliation. 

He obliges with a sudden harsh thrust of his hips, and penetrating bite to the bruised flesh of Ichigo neck. He feels his teeth sink and the bitter, powerful taste of blood coat his tongue as Ichigo stiffs into a steel coil, before releasing into a rag doll, panting  
and seemingly satisfied. Eyes sharpen a breath later; Chad finds himself on his back with Ichigo looming above him with a bleeding throat, fire fueled golden and black eyes, gleaming sharp teeth, and pliant body slowly sinking down.


End file.
